


A Widening Gyre (Or Five Times Sam and Dean Made Mistakes That Ended Well and One Time They Didn't)

by landrews



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5 Times, Boys Bleeding, Gen, Luck and Fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landrews/pseuds/landrews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys are sometimes only lucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Widening Gyre (Or Five Times Sam and Dean Made Mistakes That Ended Well and One Time They Didn't)

**Author's Note:**

> Set pre-series through Season 5
> 
> There is fluff in this, but not the kind I can tag :-)
> 
> Disclaimer: Not Mine- CW, Kripke, et al.
> 
> AN: THE FIRST 1000 WORDS were written in December 2010 for Last Author Standing, prompt "Beautiful Mistakes", the LAST 215 WORDS were added immediately after the challenge to make this a Five Times Fic. 
> 
> Title from Yeats.

 

 

_**1)** _

 

Running for the bolt hole, Dean trips and goes sprawling. 

The pursuing Oni, in mid-leap, ends up sailing right over him. 

John releases the cross-bow string and the poisoned bolt flies true. 

The Oni crumples to the ground. 

 

_**2)** _

 

Startled awake, Sam sees only the shadows of Dean's bed, the bureau. There's no moon tonight. Dad won't be back for two days, Dean's in Virginia. 

The bathroom door creaks. Sam holds his breath, mouth open, listening. He rolls out of bed and reaches under it for Dean's old sawed off. It isn't there. Shadows flicker in the hall. Sam snags the silver knife from under his pillow; shoots across the dim room to hide behind the door.

Darkness enters and Sam steps in, knife streaking up. His wrist is caught and twisted. He kicks out and catches the man's ankle, taking them both down. Cold metal grazes his cheek. He tries to roll, but the man is faster and Sam's suddenly suffocating under someone twice his weight. 

“Sammy,” Dean gasps. “Shit.”

Rage strengthens Sam's lean frame and he lifts enough to spill Dean off him. “You dick!”

“Wasn't the one who left the shotgun in the living room. Shit, I think...”

The coppery tang of blood fills Sam's nose. 

At the tiny e-clinic across town, they walk in on a werewolf attack. The two docs on call stitch Dean up for free while Sam wraps the body in plastic and drags it out to the car.

 

_**3)** _

 

Dean's pushing 75 on a two lane, when it occurs to him to call Sam. He fumbles his phone out of his jacket, presses easy on the brakes, and keys the '1' with his thumb, cornering sloppy onto the road he needs.

The phone rings twice before a gruff voice barks, _“Singer.”_

Dean freezes.

_“Dean, that you?”_

“Uh, yeah. Meant to dial Sam.”

_“You always call him when he's in class? That why he only gets voicemail from you?”_

Dean nearly bypasses the gravel track to the lake. He grunts, hitting the brakes hard, and tries to slew the Impala hard left with only one hand on the wheel. Her right rear tire slides into the ditch. Dean drops the phone, grabs the wheel, stomps on the gas. Rock rattles off her wheel wells as he straightens her out. 

He pats the floorboard around his boots and finds the phone. The call's gone.

Good, he thinks. He lays his thumb over the '1'. The phone vibrates in his hand, lighting up. Dean sighs.

“Yeah, Bobby,”

_“What are you doing?”_

“Fixing to gank a Dombro...blah, blah, whatever it is.”

_“How you gonna do that?”_

Dean rolls his eyes. Why everybody thinks he can't read is beyond him. “By filling its stomach with iron ore, courtesy of Mr. Winchester.” 

_“So you were leaving a good bye message.”_

“No. I was...” Leaving a 'see 'ya later, this is where my car is' kinda message. “Just checking in.”

_“On the way to your funeral.”_

“What the hell, Bobby?”

_“Look, Dean, I'm glad you're doing your homework, but where'd you get that, Atherton's Guide?”_

“Yeah.” He bumps onto an oak canopied dirt track, beneath a banner reading 'Marshall High Class Reunion'. 

_“Burn that thing. There's a lotta words missing from it. You got any marshmallow fluff?”_

“No.” 'cause he's not a damn girl like Sammy.

_“Well, get some. Shave the iron ore into the fluff. You might wanta mix it with rice krispies or something.”_

“I'm hanging up now, Bobby.”

_“Dean. 'Fill its stomach' means orally. Feed it. They like fluff.”_

Dean rolls his eyes. He mingles at the Reunion and in the morning, he buys fluff. After the thing eats itself to death, he calls Bobby on purpose and thanks him.

He checks his watch. Sam picks up on the first ring.

 

_**4)** _

 

The kid comes out of nowhere, slouching along right into the black dog's path. 

“Dean!” Sam shouts and takes off running at the kid. 

The kid startles and stops. The black dog shifts its focus. Slobber sprays from its flapping cheeks, revealing its fangs with every leaping bound. 

Weighting the trigger, Dean follows the dog's motion in his scope, but the kid's in the way. 

Sam's moving, his long legs eating ground. Dean closes his eyes as the black dog's jaws close. Sam yells; the kid screams; but the black dog yowls – the sounds rip through Dean's gut. 

Forcing his eyes open, Dean sees black smoke streaming up and blood streaming down. 

Sam skids into the mess, arms thrown up to cover his face. 

Dean closes his finger and the rifle booms. The black dog rolls, spinning and thrashing. Dean sights down the barrel, watching. Silver knife bloodied, Sam looks over his shoulder to the spot where Dean lies in the hollow of a rise. The dog lies still.

For days, CNN gorges on the detailed plans for a school shooting deputies pulled from the dead boy's backpack. 

 

_**5)** _

 

Dean's long dead, gone two months already. 

Sam takes down a witch in Dawson, Georgia. He doesn't think the gouge in his arm adds up to much, but it doesn't stop bleeding. He changes the bandage in Tennessee and again when he crosses the Kentucky border. He manages to pull halfway off the road before he passes out at the wheel near Cumberland Gap. 

Ron Starkey stands on his brakes rather than hit the classic car straddling the lanes in front of him as he sails around the curve entering the Cumberland Gap tunnel. Two cars slam into the rear of his Hummer.

The tunnel is cleared and traffic held on either side per safety regulations. Firefighters lay Sam out on the road. One shoves at his chest while an EMT bags him. The other drivers, all saved by airbags, stand nearby. An ominous rumble shakes the ground beneath their feet. 

In the roadhouse, Ash hands Sam a beer. Sam takes a swallow, chokes, and comes to coughing under the dust filled Kentucky sky.

The media declares it a miracle no one's in the tunnel when it collapses on itself. 

 

_**6)** _

 

His nose is bleeding onto his lips and chin, and he can't quite catch his breath. He's shaking too hard to stand, but then Ruby's there, her shoulder under his arm. Sam stumbles against her as he turns away from the Devil's Trap, and the smoking remains in its center. 

“Hey,” she whispers, and kisses him. 

It still feels strange, allowing her in, despite the fact he fucked her yesterday. He jerks back, swiping at the blood on his mouth with his sleeve, but then settles, nuzzles into her neck as she shifts, hugging him tight. There's blood on her neck, but it's not his. He finds the thin line of the cut under his lips, but he opens his mouth anyway, breathing in her musk, chasing away the burnt flesh smell filling his nose. He wants to taste her skin on his tongue, realizes he doesn't care about the blood in his mouth anymore than she did. The taste is so familiar, it's almost comforting. Her hand eases along his scalp, tucking him in closer. He kisses her, nips along her neck, and licks along the break in her skin as she moans.

By the time Sam realizes he's addicted to the bloom of her blood as it fills him, he's already cutting her himself.

 

 


End file.
